


Second of Spring

by justfortune



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB NB Apprentice, An absurd amount of teasing, Anal Plug, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, FTM Apprentice, Oral Sex, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, Teasing, Trans Character, Tribadism, afab asra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justfortune/pseuds/justfortune
Summary: It's the second day of spring in beautiful Vesuvia, and between the cold, the rain, the errands, and the overly flirty baronesses, there simply isn't much to enjoy for the Alnazar-Persefon household. Luckily Asra and Pascal are adept at finding little pleasures to indulge in when the going gets rough.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	Second of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers for trans folx:   
> Both Pascal & Asra are AFAB and trans-masculine. “Front hole” is used to describe, well, the hole in the front. “Clit” is the most gendered term used here.

The party had started as the sun set, and with a positively Bacchanalian fervor forged ahead through the night until those so-dubbed rosy fingers of dawn brushed against the horizon. It was then that a particularly inebriated plague doctor cried, “FAUST!” and at once everyone remembered the reason for the festivities. A magician brought forth the snake. 

“And?” Pressed a servant to the Countess. 

“No shadow!” Proclaimed the magician’s former apprentice. 

And there was much rejoicing. 

And so on that bleary March morning the Alnazar-Persefon household was thrust into spring. Unfortunately for the Alnazar-Persefon household, however, Vesuvian weather was not beholden to their superstitions. The day was as drizzly and cold as the one before, and tomorrow’s prospects didn’t look much better. The Alnazar-Persefon household paid no mind, as they passed their day dozing off the previous night’s indulgences. 

This brings us to where we find our magician and his apprentice now: peacefully slumbering on the second morning of spring, neither quite ready to greet the season for the sun’s position in the sky (or, rather, lack thereof). 

\---- 

Asra looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Pascal can hardly keep himself from running his fingers through his hair; the moonlight makes it look so soft and inviting. His cupid’s-bow lips are pulled into a smile that practically begs to be kissed. It’s all Pascal can take not to pull him in. 

They kiss their fingertips, then tap them lightly to their lover’s cheek. 

It’s bad enough that one of them has to be awake at this hour. 

They sit up. Though they had done some cleaning after the party, the loft above the magic shop is still in a bit of a state. Pascal has to step over sundry remnants of revelry to make their way over to the dresser and pull on enough layers to keep them warm for the day. If the cold’s bite has anything to say, they’ll need several. 

Something shifts on the bed. Pascal glances over to see a pair of horizontal pupils staring at them, expectant. 

“Not today, Berlioz,” they whisper. “You’ll freeze out there.”

Pascal’s familiar is all too happy to hear the news. She snuggles in closer to Asra. Pascal can’t help but feel a pang of resentment at how cozy she looks. 

No. There’s business to be done today, and no one else to do it. Asra had returned from a week-long adventure just before the party, and there’s no way Pascal is getting stuck in the shop alone again while their former master runs the day’s exciting errands. It’s the second day of spring, and Pascal has plenty of interesting things to keep him busy ‘till the sun sets. 

But first it has to rise. Pascal’s journey onto the cobblestones outside is illuminated by its faint gray glow, but it has yet to warm the air. They rub their gloved hands together as they make their way to the day’s first task: bread. 

They have the streets to themselves. It’s a long walk to Selasi’s shop, but one Pascal thoroughly enjoys. Having an entire city to oneself is the unique pleasure of an early riser. They relish in the beauty of Vesuvia in the crisp morning air, its denizens still asleep behind building facades. The hurried sound of their boots on the cobblestones echoes between the buildings. The air buzzes with anticipation. An invigorating new day is coming, and it’s just over the horizon! 

Wrapped up in their musing, it feels like just minutes until they’re stepping into the bakey. A wave of warm, spiced air washes over their senses. Pascal grins. “Selasi!” they call. 

Sure enough, a pleasantly squat gentleman peers over the counter. “Pascal,” he muses, tone just as hearty as his wares. “You’re early today! You’re in luck -- pumpkin bread just got out of the oven. Still too hot to eat, but I’ll wrap it up for you.” 

“That’s alright,” Pascal says quickly. “I was hoping for something a little more… springtime-y. Got anything like that fresh?” 

“Springtime-y!” He exclaims in response. “You’ve lost your head! It’s just above freezing outside.” 

“Faust didn’t see her shadow. Technically today’s the second day of spring.” 

Selasi’s laugh is booming. “I forgot! You and Asra have your own schedule. Here, I’ve got some lemon cakes left over from yesterday.” He rummages around in the cabinet below the display case. “They’re not the freshest, they’re springtime-y alright. Just take ‘em -- no one’s buying citrus flavors this time of year.” 

“It’s perfect.” Pascal holds out a cloth; Selasi deposits two pastries into it. They make a mental note to overpay on their next order. “Thanks, Selasi.” 

“Stay warm out there; give Asra my regards!” 

A cold wind hits Pascal full-force as they leave the bakery. They quickly tuck the lemon cakes into their satchel and pull their cloak tighter around their frame. _Asra_. He’d love to run home, crawl up into the blankets, and give every inch of Asra Selasi’s warmest regards over and over until they both dripped with sweat. 

A warmth made itself known on his left ring finger. Speak of the Devil. The silver band had been a gift for Pascal’s 7th resurrection anniversary -- a birthday, of sorts -- and warms up whenever Asra thinks about them. His lips quirk into a smile. It’s still far too early an hour for any decent Vesuvian to be awake, but Asra’s sleep schedule doesn’t follow any discernible rules. 

Curiosity gets the best of Pascal; he pinches the fingers of his glove and shucks it off. 

The ring glows fuschia. So do Pascal’s cheeks. _So that’s what Asra’s thinking about this early in the morning._ They quickly pull the ring off their finger and slide it into their bag. Not that anyone would know what it means… or that anyone is even about at this hour to see. 

\---- 

It’s nearly noon, and the city is thrumming with life. By this point Pascal has checked off a few things on their to-do list, but it’s still dishearteningly long. 

They wade through block after block in the flooded district looking for their next destination. The water is up to Pascal’s ankles; each step sends a splash even higher up their legs. They can hardly feel their toes for the chill, but this next visit is important. Hildibrand needs the tincture for his back, and Pascal will be damned if they let the old man down. With each block they pass the facades get a little worse for the wear, the denizens fewer and farther between, and the chill ever so slightly more piercing. Finally they’re about to reach Hildibrand’s nearly-abandoned building… but the voice that greets them when they round the corner stops them dead in their tracks. 

“Pascal,” it calls. 

“Asra?” 

“Down here,” he says. They look down. Sure enough, Asra’s face is staring happily back at them. 

Pascal can’t help but smile. “I felt you think about me this morning. You were certainly up early.” 

“I’m glad you brought that up, actually,” says Asra. “I want to show you something.” 

Asra glances in both directions to make sure they’re alone. He produces an egg-shaped glass object, with flared base inlaid with opal. Their eyes fly open. In a panic, Pascal splashes around with his foot to distort the image. Laughing, Asra puts it away. “Relax, it’s gone now! I just wanted to say that that’s going to be inside me when you come home. I’m putting it in now. This way I’ll have no choice but to think about you all day.” 

“You kinky bastard,” Pascal murmurs under his breath, but Asra’s image is already gone. A bit embarrassed, he glances around him to make sure no one overheard the compromising encounter. They pull their cloak tighter around their shoulders and trod on. 

\---- 

Silence. Pascal is glaring daggers at The Devil. _Say something,_ they silently beg, but the card simply doesn’t seem to be listening -- or perhaps it’s the reader who’s distracted. They slump their shoulders. “I’m sorry Madame Dupont, but they’re not telling me anything at all today. The card is The Devil -- perhaps you’ve experienced some spiritual stagnation that’s getting in the way of my divination?” 

The woman rests her manicured fingertips upon her cheek. “I’m sim _p_ ly _p_ er _p_ lexed,” she admitted. Her thick upper-crust accent has her popping each P, which in turn causes a small burst of spittle to spew from her mouth each time. She purses heavily-rouged lips. 

“ _P_ erhaps a cup of tea,” she muses. “What would you _p_ rescribe to one seeking a s _p_ iritual rebirth?” 

“Uh… mugwort?” 

“ _P_ erfect!” She declares, picking a little bell off of the table and giving it a ring. A servant rushes in. “A mugwort tea for myself, dear, and jasmine for my guest.” Madame Dupont turns her attention to said guest. “It’s an aphrodisiac, you know.~” She winks. 

Pascal gulps. “Um… with honey, if you don’t mind.” The servant nods and heads out. 

After barely a few seconds they’re scuttling in with a kettle and two cups filled with leaves and flowers. Pascal delights in the smell. 

“My lady,” says the servant once the hot water is poured, “if I may -- a word with you in the parlor? The Duchess has sent another message and she insists that it’s urgent.” 

An appalled look spreads across her face. “That she would dare! She’s very lucky my company is the _p_ atient kind. Very well, I’ll be on my way.” She gives an apologetic look to said company. “ _P_ lease do enjoy your tea, _P_ ascal; Irene will see you out when you’re through. Oh, this is sim _p_ ly horrible manners on my _p_ art, really, you must forgive me, I--” 

Irene cuts her off by clearing their throat. “The Duchess?” 

“ _Oh!_ ” Poor Madame Dupont is despondent. 

Pascal can hear a light sigh as the pair leave the room. Was that…? No, it can’t be. Enjoying the earthy aroma, they take a deep pull of their tea, only to hear that same sigh again. Louder, followed by a gasp. They slam their tea down to the table. 

“ _Asra! _” The hiss is an accusation.__

__He doesn’t reply in words; instead, it’s a breathy “ _ahhhhhhh…._ ” that greets the blushing mage. _ _

__There’s no image in the tea, but the one painted in Pascal’s mind is just as vivid as what’s going on across town. What could Asra possibly be doing to himself to warrant those sorts of noises? Their mind doesn’t need to wander far. The breathing on the other end of the (...tea?) gets faster, shallower, more desperate. “Pascal,” comes a whisper, “I’m -- _oh_ , I’m so close.” _ _

__“Fuck, Asra, that’s…” It’s hot as hell is what is. They put a hand over their tea to muffle the panting sounds, but to little avail. Arousal coils in their groin. Gingerly, Pascal lifts the tea to their lips and whispers: “come for me, Asra.”_ _

__“ **AhhhhHHHH----!!!** ” _ _

__The door creaks. Pascal’s heart stops cold. With a tip of their head, they knock the whole cup back in one gulp._ _

__A wide-eyed Irene stares agape at the magician, empty cup still up at their lips. “Did you, um… enjoy your tea?”_ _

__\----_ _

__**_Night falls, and the stakes rise._ ** _ _

__“Honey, I’m h --”_ _

__The scene that greets him leaves Pascal frozen in his tracks._ _

__“Pascal,” he breathes. “You’re a wonderful sight.”_ _

__Their heart leaps into their throat, where their breath is hopelessly caught._ _

__Asra’s piercing lavender eyes catch the dumbfounded magician’s gaze instantly. His pupils are blown wide. Pascal breaks eye contact to feast on the sight just below: two plump lips curling into a smirk that’s begging to be bruised by their teeth. He tilts his head back to show off the column of his throat. And Devil below, does it look _inviting_. _ _

__But that is nothing compared to what lies beneath. Asra had stripped himself down to a sheer silk robe that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. As if the outfit itself wasn’t brazen enough, he moves his left arm just a smidge to send the fabric sliding off his shoulder, exposing half of his torso. “Oh,” he says, looking down at the slip, but his bashful tone isn’t fooling anyone. No, Asra’s every move today has been calculated to push Pascal to their limits. It was working. He pulls the fabric back up._ _

__“I was just about to make some tea before bed. Do you want some?”_ _

__His heart hammers in his chest. Cape, coat, hat, and gloves hit the floor one after the other as Pascal closes the distance between them in just a few steps. Asra’s expression is downright impish as his lover plants a knee on either side of his hips to straddle his lap and brings them into a rough kiss. Asra moans. The sound is beyond beautiful; Pascal cups Asra’s jaw and gives an experimental bite to his bottom lip to deepen the kiss. Asra’s fingers brush along the edge of their sweater, hesitant._ _

__Pascal moves to nibble his earlobe. “Just touch me,” he demands, sick of the teasing._ _

__Just like that, Asra’s warm hands feel their way into their undershirt. They wander along their toned core to their back. How dare he tease like this, after what he’d put them through? Pascal busies themself grinding onto the magician’s lap and whispering into his ear. “You’ve been nothing but a nuisance all day, you know that? Pain in my ass.”_ _

__Pascal jumps as two strong hands grip fistfulls of his ass. “I could be.” Ocean blue eyes meet violet. Asra sports his signature impish half-smile and squint because he knows, he _knows_ it drives Pascal wild. _ _

__“Forget the tea. We’re going to bed.”_ _

__He quirks an eyebrow. “Must we get up? You looked like you were just starting to enjoy yourself.”_ _

__“I’ll enjoy myself a lot more when I get your mouth on me.”_ _

__Asra grins. “I like the sound of that.”_ _

__He’s always full of surprises. For the second time in less than a minute, Pascal starts with surprise; Asra scoots forward on the sofa and then stands, Pascal in his arms. They scramble to cling onto him, legs clamping around his hips._ _

__The walk up the spiral staircase is a little awkward (and not without giggles), but before long Pascal is being tossed onto the bed. A nest of pillows cushions his fall. The heat of the fire had reached the loft, but the it’s difficult to see through the darkness until their eyes begin to adjust. They push themselves up onto their elbows. The moon casts a dim light on their bedroom; Asra stands in a beam of it at the foot of the bed. The silk of the nightgown glimmers as Asra brushes it off his shoulders._ _

__The sight of Asra standing bare before them, the white hair on his head and equally unruly tangle between his thighs reflect the moonlight’s pale blue glow, lights a fire within the former apprentice. It illuminates the highlights of his body -- cheekbones, brow, collar bones, the curves of his arms -- in a beautiful indigo shine. A faint smile plays on his lips. Pascal is just now noticing that they’re not the only one who’s been staring._ _

__When he speaks, Pascal feels the weight of his words’ sincerity on his chest. “You’re a vision,” he says._ _

__They’re thankful for the darkness that hides the blush on their cheeks. “I could say the same for you.”_ _

__Now it’s Asra’s turn to flush. No matter how many compliments Pascal pays to their mage, Asra is always flustered at their kind words -- and it’s always just as endearing to see. He reaches for the buttons fastening their pants and undoes them one by one, never once breaking eye contact. Pascal can feel the excitement building between their legs. “Please,” they beg._ _

__They’re lucky Asra is a merciful lover. He pulls off their boots, then slides their pants and underclothes off in one swift motion. The quick exposure has Pascal shivering. It’s not another moment later that their magician is diving down to press a kiss to their sex. When his tongue comes out to lick a stripe from the very tip down to the base they feel sparks run through their veins._ _

__“Fuck…” they breathe, taking the weight off their elbows by laying back against the pillows. “Suck on it, Asra. Please.”_ _

__Their lover can very well draw this whole situation out by withholding… but Pascal had been so patient that it doesn’t quite seem fair, and Asra isn’t in the business of denying the person he went to hell and back for such a simple ask. After a quick swirl of his tongue, he puckers his lips and sucks their length into his mouth. Pascal chokes on their breath. Asra’s mouth feels so tight around them they’re afraid they might end the night just when it’s really getting started. Their skilled mage is used to this sort of reaction, and takes a moment to let them adjust. With a shaky hand, they reach down to tangle their fingers in his hair. “Okay…” they whisper, “go ahead.”_ _

__When Asra resumes his work, he does so with enthusiasm. He grabs Pascal by the hips and moans into them, sucking them in and bobbing his head to work up and down. Every other thrust is punctuated with a swirl of his tongue._ _

__It’s _ecstasy_. _ _

__The sheets crinkle as Pascal’s toes curl and flex to grip them. A sigh gets caught in his throat. Asra is taking them apart piece by piece in all the ways he knows they love. When they feel something brush against their entrance, they let out all the moans they had been holding in. “Asra, please, please put your fingers in me, I need to feel you, I wanna come with you inside me.”_ _

__And of course, he’s happy to oblige. Pascal gives a cry as they feel two skilled fingers slide in to stretch their walls. They buck into his mouth. Knowing exactly where to apply pressure, Asra massages that spongy bit of flesh -- and is rewarded by two thighs quivering around his ears and the hair on his head nearly getting yanked out._ _

__All too soon those sparks of pleasure pick up in pace. Asra’s fingers, his mouth, the hand gripping their hip... Before Pascal knows it they’re tumbling over the edge, clenching around those deft fingers and crying out his name._ _

__Asra stills his fingers. With half-lidded eyes he looks up at the love of his life, blissed-out and coming down from their high. _He’s so beautiful like this_ , Pascal thinks to himself. _ _

__His mouth is soaked._ _

__Pascal offers him their hand. When he takes it, they pull him up into their arms. At this angle it’s harder to see him. The only thing really visible is his outline against the starry sky shining through the window._ _

__This time, it’s Asra who initiates a kiss. His lips are slippery with evidence of Pascal’s arousal, and Pascal, for one, adores it. The kisses they share are quiet, intimate. Pascal runs a hand down his partner’s body. “Thank you,” they murmur against those plush lips. For all his teasing earlier, now Asra is gentle when he comes up to caress their cheek._ _

__“The pleasure’s all mine,” they respond. It’s the earnestness in his voice that convinces Pascal that it had really, truly been Asra’s pleasure to bring them to ecstasy on his fingertips._ _

__Devious, Pascal smirks. “Is that right?” Their hand smooths down the side of their lover's body, taking extra care to squeeze his ass. Asra gasps at that. Then they dip their hand lower, lower, tickling the flesh of his thighs with how light their touch is. Instinctively, he lifts his thigh. Lazy touches continue to roam closer to his slit, but don’t threaten to enter. Not yet. Their own heartbeat speeds up as they feel Asra get excited under their fingertips. Asra gives them a sweet sigh when they finally brush against their folds. And when their fingers travel just a bit farther back…_ _

__“Ah -- _mmmm…_ ” Asra closes the gap between their lips once more. Pascal meets no resistance as he slides into that tight, wet hole. Using the heel of their hand, they grind up against that bundle of nerves that leaves his legs shaking. It’s easy to crook their fingers and massage both his pleasure spots while still having an arm free to wrap around Asra, pulling him in closer until they’re touching almost entirely from head-to-toe. They feel Asra come apart in their hand. _ _

__But after a few minutes of playing to Asra’s pleasure, Pascal knows there’s something more he’s looking for. They just want to hear him say it. “Tell me what you need to make you come. I wanna feel it.”_ _

__“Ride me,” comes the request like it had been sitting right at the tip of his tongue. “Let me feel your whole body Pascal, I want you, I need to feel you.”_ _

__Who are they to deny him? They pull their fingers out of his channel and roll onto him in a fluid motion. There was already a leg hitched onto his hip; naturally Asra’s other leg comes up to grip Pascal around his waist. For once, Asra is quiet. Pascal thrusts forward._ _

__Swollen and aching clits meet in a mess of slick between them. Asra doesn’t make a sound. He wants more, more, more of Pascal’s body and pleasure and soul. Strong arms wrap around Pascal, giving him no choice but to press their chests together. The pair’s wanton moans drown out the wet noises of two aroused sexes rubbing against each other, taking their pleasure from each other. Asra digs his nails into their back. Every kiss earns Pascal a hearty groan from their love, every thrust a matching one from beneath them. It feels incredible. It feels… fuck, it feels too good, and before Pascal knows it they’re coming again, grinding their clits together slower, harder._ _

__Asra knows that sound. Pascal knows what Asra needs. Despite the tingling oversensitivity they keep giving their love pleasure with their hips. Swollen lips meet feverishly. They feel Asra’s sex pulse beneath them as he reaches his peak, squeezing Pascal’s midsection with his thighs with all his strength._ _

__The kisses don’t stop while they come down. They simply grow lazier and lazier as seconds slip past them in their post-coital bliss. Asra cups Pascal’s face._ _

__“Thank you,” he sighs, touching their noses together. “I hope you didn’t run into too much trouble today.”_ _

__“I ran into quite a bit of trouble actually.” Pascal kisses that nose. “Lucky for me it was the best kind.”_ _


End file.
